


Of Christmas and Pine

by CarylDixonandGrimes (FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Assumes Lori is already deceased, But I promise all good things, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Daryl owns a tree farm, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, There is a touch of sadness, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8917192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes
Summary: AU whereby Rick's wife has already passed away.  It's nearly a year later, and their first Christmas without her.  Rick tries to fill the void and maintain tradition, but Carl seeks change.  Their annual trek for the perfect Christmas Tree takes them to the Dixon Tree Farm, where Daryl helps them find just the perfect one.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarburetorCastiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarburetorCastiel/gifts).



> CarburetorCastiel is an exquisite character and much beloved member of the Rickyl Writer's Group. CC has a heart of gold, and set up a Secret Santa within the group. Well, some of us decided to take it one step further and shower them with gift ficlets for being such a sweetheart.
> 
> Love you, Bemu! <3

Carl sat on the front steps of the small two story cape home, his chin resting on his hands while he waited for Rick to get his shoes and jacket on and come out too.  They were on their annual hunt for the perfect Christmas tree.  But this year the hunt was beginning on a sombre note.  Where last year there had been three of them, a complete family, this year it was just Carl and his Dad.  A week after Christmas, Lori passed away most unexpectedly.  Christmas had been her favorite holiday, and she would go all out decorating their home inside and out beginning the day after Thanksgiving.  It was always an argument, Rick had the day off and Lori would be up with the sun, pulling down the attic stairs and taking down the numerous totes of Christmas decorations and harping on Rick to get the ladder to string the lights on the gutters.  There was none of that this year.  Rick had pulled down the totes of decorations the day after Thanksgiving, but they remained stacked neatly in the upstairs hall waiting for long slender fingers to take them out and hang them just so.

It had been a rough year, to say the least.  Many a sleepless night, the memories of Lori’s voice and the sound of her laughter beginning to fade, deep melancholy taking it’s place.  Carl couldn’t remember the way the lines around her eyes deepened when she smiled genuinely.  He was beginning to forget the lilt of her voice when she sang “You Are My Sunshine” every morning when he had to get up for school.  Now, his mornings were met with the monotony of a standard alarm clock beeping.  A cold and harsh conjuring of the new day.  Carl rubbed his eyes tiredly.  While he had slept in on this particular day, he had not slept well knowing the memories it would bring.  Rick finally stepped outside pulling the door shut behind him, tossing the keys in his hand and giving Carl a half-smile.  They climbed into the cold Jeep, and waited a few minutes for the engine to heat up before pulling out of the driveway.

“So… we going to Pearson’s Tree Farm, or-”

“Mm-mm, no.” Carl cut Rick off.  His voice was firm, adamant.  Pearson’s Tree Farm was where they got their tree every year, without fail.  Acres upon acres of Christmas trees; Douglas Fir, Blue Spruce, and groomed White Pine to name a few.

“Oh…” Rick nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he slowed to a stop at the intersection.  

“I think I saw a sign, in town?  By the hardware store.”

Rick nodded again, driving into the center of town and past the hardware.  A small sign, barely legible from the road and hastily painted on plywood said “Dixon’s Trees” with an address.  So Rick took mental note, and turned the vehicle down the next road and several miles out of town.  He was met by another small sign at the end of a long dirt driveway lined on both sides by heavily wooded lots, but in the distance he could see the manicured hills and the trees lining them in straight rows.  He pulled ahead and parked.  There were but two other vehicles there, and he could hear the laughter of children as they found their perfect tree.  Carl hopped out of the car before Rick had even shut it off, grabbing a hand saw from the pine slab shack and moving toward the trees.

“Whoa, kid? Hey… you ask your Dad if you can carry that saw?  Don’t wan’ ya gettin’ hurt,” came a low southern drawl as a man stepped out from the small shack.  Sleeveless flannel over a thermal shirt, and faded blue jeans the right shade of blue that made the man’s matching blue eyes just pop.  His russet brown hair glinting with highlights of gold in the morning light, in dire need of a trim but looking delightfully shaggy nevertheless.

“It’s… It’s okay,” Rick held up a hand in greeting and apology.  “He cuts down the tree every year.  Tradition.”

The man gave a quick nod, “Okay, just checkin’.”  His eyes held Rick's a moment too long, but he took a step closer holding out his hand.  “Name’s Daryl.  Don’t think I seen ya here before…”

“No… this is our first time here.  I'm Rick.  And that's Carl. Usually go to Pearson’s but…” Rick’s voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly.  “We’re in need of a change this year.”  He cleared his throat and attempted to smile at Daryl, but it probably came across as more of a wince.  “He lost his Mom just after Christmas last year.  Was her favorite holiday.  They two of them would spend hours searching for just the right tree, and… well, it’s our first year without her.  Just needed somethin’ different.”

“Oh, shit man… I’m sorry,” Daryl seemed genuine, looking Rick over with squinted eyes.  “Lost my mom when I was young.  Ain’t easy, but there will come a day when the hurt is… not less, but manageable.”

Rick hummed in agreement, looking over at where Carl stood at the tree line, head hung and sullen at the talk of his mother. Most days he seemed unaffected, but with the flood of warm holidays and he upcoming anniversary of her passing, his hurts were renewed.

“Want me ta show ya around? Most folks don't even get to the backside of the lot, that's where the best trees are, in my opinion.”

“Don't you have to be in watch up here for customers?”

“Nah, got my friend Carol inside makin’ wreaths from cuttings and pine swags, she's got it covered. Quiet day anyhow, most folks already got their trees.”

Carl led the way up the main gravel lined path, with Daryl and Rick in tow.  Looking left and right down the long rows of assorted trees, his face in a frown. He had an idea in mind of just what he wanted but no tree was quite right.  Too tall, too skinny, lopsided, bare spot, too perfectly groomed, too overgrown.  Daryl certainly had a very wide array of styles to choose from. Daryl and Rick continued to make small talk as they followed Carl, and Carl’s frown continued to deepen until the 10 year old’s chin began tremble and he no longer looked up at the trees.

A sniffle caught Rick’s attention, and the two men turned to see Carl take an angry swipe at his eyes.

“Carl?” Rick asked, “what's wrong, son?”

Carl wouldn't look at him but he just shook his head and held the saw up for Rick to take.  “You pick, I'll go wait in the car,” and he turned to walk away back toward the parking area.

“Carl? No, we do this together!” He called after him.  Daryl held up a hand stopping Rick.  “Can I have a second with him? You keep looking, I'll bring him around. Promise. We’ll stay in your line of sight.”  The earnest look in Daryl’s eye had Rick nodding in agreement, his own eyes red rimmed sharing in Carl's frustration because his young son was hurting too.

Daryl jogged toward Carl, catching up with him, giving him a pat on the shoulder stopping the boy in his tracks.  He squatted down in front of Carl so he could be eye to eye with him, and also so Rick could see and not think he was some sort of child predator.

“Hey… ain't gonna tell what ta do, but think ya can tell me what kind of tree you're looking for? Just gimme a chance, that all’s I'm askin’.  Got a dozen different types of trees, and if I ain't got what you want here, I know a few other farms I can recommend… Make it a little easier on you guys.  That sound fair?”

Carl looked at him with wet eyes, and he just shrugged as his tears spilled over.

“Here,” Daryl reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red shop rag, handing it to Carl. “Take your time, I know what it's like to lose a momma.”

“You do?” Carl’s voice cracked but perked up with interest.

“Yep, was about your age when it happened.”

“How'd she die?” He asked. Daryl stood up, “Come on, walk with me and tell me about the tree ya want and then I'll share my story.”

Carl looked back at Rick seeking permission and receiving it with a single nod. Daryl led the way down a row of perfect conically trimmed trees, and Carl skipped after him describing the perfect tree to Daryl.  He went into great detail beyond the height and fullness, including color hue and scent, and how the needles would feel against his hand when they strung the lights and hung the ornaments. Daryl nodded his head thoughtfully and and asked a few necessary questions before looking back at Rick with a grin.

“Think I got just what you're asking for, other side of the lot down the side. Planted a bunch of Virginia Pine a few years back. Ain't been trimmed this year so it'll look more natural like you want. Needles won't stab your hands, nice and full…. this way.”

Carl hurried after him, eventually catching up with the man’s longer gait.

“Can you tell me about your mom?” Carl asked looking up at him with those big blue-green eyes, beseeching him and seeking comfort.

Daryl looked down and with a bittersweet smile he began. “Was out playing with my friends one afternoon.  They were riding their bikes, I didn't have one at the time but ran around after them as best I could.  We were playing a game when we heard the sirens.  Following the sound and seeing the black smoke billowing into the sky, we had ta check it out.  Turns out it was my house.  Momma had liked her wine a little too much.  Fell asleep or passed out with a cigarette.  House burned down with her in it.”

“Oh my gosh…”

“Yeah. I wasn't lucky like you, I didn't have an old man that cared about me or wanted me to be happy.  Weren't no funeral or nothing. Just cremated her and dumped her ashes in the woods.”

“That’s…..”

“Real shitty, right? Weren't allowed to talk about her or say her name either.  My point is, you're dad is trying, which is real hard this year, I’m sure. We never celebrated Christmas after my mom died, and it was her favorite holiday too.  And now my Dad is dead and gone, and my only brother is in prison. Ain't got nobody to celebrate. It's okay to miss your mom, he does too.  And it's okay to feel sad.  Hell, it's okay to have yourself a cry too every now and then.”

Carl blushed and scraped his sneaker sheepishly in the dirt.  Daryl knelt down in front of Carl again, “This year is gonna be hardest on both y’all.  Just… be patient, be kind.  You'll always miss her momma but I promise every year that passes, those memories will make you less sad and more apt to smile. Alright?”

Carl smiled at Daryl, nodding emphatically through a fresh set of tears.

“Good boy.  Now tell me… any of these trees seem to your liking?” He stood up holding an arm down a line of grown Virginia Pine.  He grinned as Carl’s face lit up, waving Rick over and handing the saw to him. “You got a sweet boy,” he commented low as Carl took off circling the trees and running his fingers over the long soft needles, sticking his face close and inhaling deep through his nose.

“Thank you… that was all Lori’s doing.  I worked all the time, she stayed home to raise him.”

“Nah, yer good people. It rubbed off on him.”

Rick hummed, his cheeks tinged a faint pink at the compliment.

“Dad!” Carl called out excitedly, “I found it! This is the tree!” Rick chuckled and the two walked over to the tree Carl had chosen.

“Great choice,” Rick grinned. “Mom would have approved.” Carl threw himself at Rick, his arms wrapping around the man’s waist. He looked up at Rick who tousled his hair, “Would you like to do the honors again this year?” Rick asked.  He knelt down beside the tree handing Carl the saw, and with his hand over his son’s, together they moved the saw back and forth cutting the slim trunk close to the ground.

Daryl pulled the cut tree off the ground and slung it over his shoulder.  “Come on, I'll help ya get this strapped to your vehicle.”

While Daryl tied the tree down, Rick pulled out his wallet to pay.

“Put that away,” Daryl waved the wallet away. “This one’s on the house.”

“Really, it's no problem-”

“Pay it forward,” Daryl responded.

“Uh,” Rick awkwardly tucked the wallet back into his pocket. “I can do that.”

“Dad,” Carl whispered tugging on Rick’s shirt.

“Hmm?” Rick looked down at Carl.

“He's gonna be alone at Christmas. Like us.  Can he come over for dinner? Or at least to see the tree after we decorate it?”

Rick turned to Daryl, cocking his head in question. “It is just the two of us this year.  Eggnog, maybe a meatloaf or something. A roast would be too big. I ain't the best cook but I try?”

Daryl chewed his lip a moment looking between the two Grimes. “Sure,” he shrugged. “Why the hell not. Y’all like venison? I can get us some back straps, nice and tender. Cook ‘em up in a little bacon grease, don't need much seasoning neither. I make a mean sweet potato pie too…”

“Yes!” Carl answers, “Can you do that? No offense, Dad, but you burn the meatloaf every time.” Carl’s eyes implored Rick to go along with Daryl's offering.

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “Daryl, that sounds delicious. Thank you.” They exchanged phone numbers and Rick gave him directions to the house.

“See you at Christmas, Daryl?” Carl asked as they walked back toward the car.

“Sure thing, lil’ man!” He tousled Carl's hair. “Looking forward to it,” he said, turning to face Rick, blue eyes on blue.

“Me too,” Rick nodded with a smile. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Daryl arrived at the Grimes’ family home at precisely 4:00 p.m. on Christmas day.  He carried in hand his so-called “mean sweet potato pie,” the venison tenderloin and a couple pounds of thick cut slab bacon, and a red velvet sack that was a gift for the three of them to enjoy together.  Kind of silly, he thought, but maybe it would add a little light to the day.

Three sharp raps of his knuckle on the door, and Carl opened it moments later. 

“Daryl!  You’re here!” He exclaimed, his face alight with joy at his new friend’s arrival on their doorstep.

“Said I was comin’,” he chuckled, stepping inside.  He toed off his boots, and followed Carl into the kitchen.  Rick was nose deep in a recipe book, looking quite confused, and frowning deeply.  He had a set of reading glasses perched on his nose, his hair was a disheveled mess, and there was a smear of flour across his cheekbone.   Grumbling to himself, he turned toward the pantry to gather additional ingredients and nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sight of Daryl and Carl.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry… didn’t know you were here already!” He breathed a sigh of relief.  “I was tryin’ my hand at biscuits, thought maybe biscuits and gravy, and some collard greens.  But I managed to completely fuck the greens.  I got a can of green beans, I could try to do a green bean casserole, or-”

“Breathe, Mr. Grimes!” Daryl chuckled, “It’s alright.  Honestly, don’t stress yerself!

“Mr. What? No!  Call me Rick!  And I’m sorry, I wanted to have a nice meal prepared seein’ as you brought the main course and dessert, and-”

“Mind if I toss this in the fridge?” He gestured to the array of items he had in hand, to which Rick nodded his assent.

“Alright, whatchya got goin’ on?” asked Daryl after he got the necessities take care of.

“Currently… a very sad bowl of dough that just don’t look right for biscuits, and the greens… I tossed ‘em.  I’m sorry, I guess I can’t cook to save m’life,” Rick admonished.

Daryl hummed thoughtfully, then turned to Carl with a grin.  “Tell ya what, Short Stop.  You open up that red bag over there, and I’m gonna go raid yer pantry.  Y’all are off to a fine start…. Er, effort for Christmas dinner.  Won’t take but a few minutes, and we’ll get us a good meal goin’, sound alright?”

“Hell, yeah!” Carl cheered.

“Carl Richard Grimes, watch yer MOUTH!” Rick scolded, attempting to be fierce but chortling at his young son’s out-of-character eagerness.  Carl pulled open the bag, reached in, and pulled out three pieces of clothing.  He held each one up, cocking his head in true Grimes’ fashion, he looked at each sweatshirt.  There were two larges and a children’s sized one.  Daryl had brought them all Ugly Christmas Sweaters in sweatshirt form.  Carl’s had a T-Rex dinosaur chasing down a reindeer.  Of the other two, one had a cartoon-ish image of Donald Trump in a Christmas hat saying “Make Christmas Great Again!” And the other was the image of an abhorrent bare ass, encircled with a bedazzled Christmas Wreath bearing the inscription “Ugly Ass Christmas Sweater.”

Carl busted out in full belly laughs, taking his shirt and running with it up to his bedroom to change.  Rick chuckled at the sight, and realizing that was the first time that Carl had laughed like that in a year, his chuckle quickly changed to broken hiccuping sob.  He brought a hand to his mouth, staring out the doorway after his son, willing his breathing to ease and to let a smile settle on his lips despite his trembling chin.  Daryl had stood by the cabinets and watched it all play out, and leaving them be to process their emotions.  From Carl’s giggles, to Rick’s tears, he saw how moved Rick was by Carl’s happiness, and that was all the Christmas miracle he needed to last until next year.  He had only wanted to bring some fun and light into their life, and in that moment he had.   _ Achievement unlocked, _ he mentally noted to himself.

It was a few moments later before Rick was able to collect himself, but he joined counter-side by the recipe book he was perusing.  “Thank you… for that,” he spoke out softly, his voice a touch hoarse.  “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him that free and happy.  Even if it was just a moment, it was… everything.”

“S’all I wanted, just to make ‘im smile,” Daryl responded.  “Go on, you pick out one of them ugly ass things, and put it on.  I’ll do the other and we’ll get this Christmas dinner going.”

Rick chose the Trump mockery, and Daryl put on the ugly ass.  Rick stayed by Daryl’s side, yet politely out of the way as he cooked up the bacon and set aside the grease for the venison.  They settled on preparing loaded mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, brussel sprouts, corn bread muffins, and a seared venison tenderloin with biscuits and gravy to finish off their meal.  Rick worked in tandem with Daryl, and at his instruction.  Before he knew it, hours had passed, and it was 6:30 when they sat down at the table to eat.

The sinful moans that escaped the mouths of both Grimes’ men, filled Daryl’s heart with such warmth.  The healing power of food, that’s what he attributed it to.  Carl chattered all through dinner, about anything and everything, and politely declined the Sweet Potato Pie declaring he’d already gotten all his vegetables with dinner, excusing himself to the den to go play video games and skype his Gramma.  That left Daryl and Rick alone to clean up from their feast.  Daryl cleared the table and packaged the leftovers, and Rick rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.  He grabbed a couple of beers from the six pack in the fridge, and together they went and sat in the living room.  The tree was aglow with lights, just simple presentation with red velvet ribbons, and a picture of what Daryl presumed to be Lori at the top of the tree.  An angel, for sure.

Offering one beer to Daryl, they tapped the necks of the bottles in an impromptu form of “cheers”, and sat down on the couch.  Rick put a Christmas movie on the TV, and flipped the switch on the gas fireplace, earning him a chuff from Daryl.  

“Gas fireplace?  Seriously, dude?”

“What?”

“You got something against real wood?”

“Well, no… but Lori could never start a fire to save her life, this was just easier than her trying to smoke us out and burn the house down.  

Daryl chuckled, “Could she at least cook?”

Rick laughed, “No… she tried, but her pancakes were the worst.  Didn’t matter if she went old-school and made them from a recipe, or if we cheated and did the Bisquik or ready-mix route.  Without fail, she’d find a way to screw them up.”

“How the hell has yer son survived this long then?” Daryl asked, jokingly of course.

Rick sighed, shaking his head with a smile on his face.  “Poor kid, got the worst two parents, ever!”

“Nah, that ain’t true.  Trust me,” Daryl took a long draw from his bottle of beer and silently thanked Rick for not questioning that further.

“We’re a hot mess, that’s for sure.”

“What makes you say that?  I mean, Carl seems like a decent enough kid.  House is still standing, you got food in yer cabinets, and clothes on yer backs… sounds pretty solid to me.”

“Oh, let me tell you how this all began, then…,” he chuckled.  “But first, I’ll need another beer.  How ‘bout you?”

Dary nodded.  Rick quickly returned to his perch on the couch near Daryl, and began his story.

“Are you an open-minded fella?” he asked, his head cocked just so, his blue eyes imploring Daryl  for honesty.

“Uh, yeah… ain’t much that offends me ‘cept maybe domestic violence and child abuse?”

“M’kay, just checkin’ cuz some folks live their lives with blinders on, and I didn’t want to run the risk of offending.”

“Oh?”

Rick smiled, and continued.  “I have a best friend, Shane.  He’s my partner on the force, but he was also my… partner in life, at one point.”

“Oh…” Daryl’s interest peaked, quite obviously.

“We dated in college,” Rick paused to gauge Daryl’s reaction.  When he received nothing but continued interest, he went on with his story.  “I’ve always been the loyal type, monogamous, and what-have-you.  Shane is… he has a lot of love to give.  Like, a LOT.  And he needed to share that with many, but that wasn’t a lifestyle that I could pursue.  He actually introduced me to Lori.  Two years later, we were married.  And a year after that, Carl was born.”

“And y’all are still friends? Like… really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Rick nodded.  “He’s pretty into women these days, but every now and then he tells me how he brought a fella home from the bar, and had his way with ‘em.”

Dary laughed and took a sip of his beer.  He wasn’t much of a beer drinker, wasn’t much of a drinker at all, so being part way through his second beer had him feeling a warm and relaxed.

“Thank you, for all of this,” Rick spoke honestly, gesturing to the ridiculous Ugly Christmas Sweater tops they were wearing, and also to the tree that they had received, no charge.

“I like making people happy,” Daryl admitted.  “And Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday.  And if I can help someone get enjoyment out of the day… don't’ take much to make me happy, I guess.”

They talked for another hour before Rick realized it was long past Carl’s bedtime.  He shooed him up the stairs to his room, and when he turned back into the the living room, Daryl was standing up getting ready to leave.

“I’ll let y’all get some rest,” he gestured to the door with keys in hand.  “But I thank ya for yer hospitality.  Dinner was great-”

“Cuz you cooked it,” Rick pressed, stepping closer to the other man.

“Ain’t about the food, sometimes it’s just about the company.”

“Hmm,” Rick hummed.  “I won’t keep ya, but I do hope you’ll come back again sometime?”

“You won’t have to ask me twice.”

Daryl stepped out the door and onto the porch, and Rick leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms against the winter chill.  “Thank you, Daryl, again.  I really mean it.  This is our first year without ‘er, and you made it… you made it bearable.”

“Weren’t nothing,” he answered shyly, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.  “I like yer smile.”

Rick grinned, “And I like yers.”

“You…,” Daryl cleared his throat.  “Yer standing under some mistletoe…”  His brows perked up at Rick, who looked above. Sure enough, just over the doorway Carl had perched the obnoxious mistletoe headband that Lori had gotten two years ago to earn as many kisses from her two favorite men as possible.

“Huh,” he grinned, “I guess I am.”

Daryl took a hesitant step closer, “I ain’t opposed, if…”

“Hmm,” Rick shook his head, “Me neither.”

Daryl’s eyes floated between Rick’s plump pink lips and those sky blue eyes, leaning in slowly giving Rick plenty of chances to pull back and refuse.  But he never did.  Instead, Rick leaned forward, tipping his head to the side.  His warm lips meeting Daryl’s, damp from the slip of his tongue across them.  The kiss deepened, their tongues mingling and warring gently, a subtle gasp reminding them that air was required.   Daryl pulled back, his eyes lazy with affection as Rick’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Merry Christmas, Rick,” Daryl smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Daryl,” Rick replied, leaning in for one last peck.  

Daryl kept his eyes on Rick as he backed away down to his vehicle, his smile wide.  Rick stood in the door and waved as his new friend drove out of sight.   _ Merry Christmas to all,  _ he thought.   _ And to all a good night. _

  
  



End file.
